Recovery flows like a river. Sometimes it is slow and steady and it looks so nice that you want to throw an inner-tube on it and crack open a beer. But other times, it is rough and scary. It rushes and churns through dangerous canyons and you'd really rather be anywhere else that is more dry and firm.
Since the chemo + clinical trial regimen about ten days ago, Sam is doing better, but not better enough to get to be discharged from the hospital. Through some uncomfortable and disconcerting acute symptoms, he manages to grow more and more talkative, alert for longer portions of the day and has started to plug back into work. We're waiting for his blood counts to come back after the treatment he received, which is still likely well over a week away. While we wait, Sam is again in the danger-zone of having zero immune system. He has, once again, had a number of complications pop up, which he has conquered one by one or is still fighting right now. When the blood counts finally do show back up, the team will do a bone marrow biopsy to check to see if he is back in remission (aka check to ensure the leukemia didn't return with the good blood cells). If he's in remission, he's a step closer to his transplant. Slow and steady, the river flows on. If you want to send good vibes toward something specific, I'd send them toward Sam creating neutrophils (aka rebuilding an immune system) and having NO LEUKEMIA come back when the neuts show up. Everything hinges on those all-powerful white blood cells rushing back in! As I'm sure you can imagine, the recovery river is scary, and sad, and tiring. We are tired of treatment, but just literally f*cking TIRED from being woken up all night every night. And, as the bone marrow biopsy approaches so does our anxiety. We also deal with watching experiences we should be participating in go on without us and try to let them make us happy and determined instead of sad. On that note, we have had a number of close friends come to visit, and those visits have been uplifting and a bright spot to break up the slog of our treatment/hospital-life routine. In and around those visits, Sam and I have continued to laugh with and at each other, eat treats, watch movies, and go on walks arm-in-arm around the tiny loop on the hospital unit. So there is always good mixed in with the bad. Thanks for continuing to think of us and check in. If you need to find us, we'll be here in this room staying afloat on our river together.
Bev Mangerson
3/5/2017 07:33:53 pm
Sending a million good vibes. Stay afloat. Thinking of you always
Bobbi and Ronnie
3/5/2017 09:21:14 pm
Fishing season is getting closer every day. Will be good Comments are closed.
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